Chapter 10

                                    

                                          
"Kathleen Qwynn, get down here!" my mother yells. 
                          
I roll my eyes from my perch on my bed. Glancing at the calendar I see the date. January 13th. A month and 4 days till my 11th birthday. 
                          
I walk down the stairs to find her waiting for me with a towel. I freeze, and moments later my dad walks out of the kitchen with two buckets of water. 
                          
"It's time for more of your training," my mom says with a smile. 
                          
I laugh nervously and take a step back up the stairs. 
                          
"No, no it's not."
                          
"Honey it's time," she says, taking a step closer to the stairs. I take two steps back up. 
                          
"No, your training hurts. It hurts me. Mom, it hurts." A cry escapes me as my trembling legs bring me down. She rushes up the stairs, grabbing me before I even have a chance to run. 
                          
"NO! No no no!" I cry. 
                          
"It's for your own good Cat." 
                          
"No it's not-"
                          
"Don't argue with me right now."
                          
She drags me down to the basement while I scream in protest, but right away I'm thrown onto a chair and tied down. 
                          
"Mom what are you gonna-" I cut off. The cloth. The water. They're going to water board me. "NO! No way! How is that training- mom please!"
                          
She ignores me. My dad ignores me. They don't care. 
                          
My mother eases my head back, tying a belt around my forehead to hold my head down. 
                          
"We're doing this because we love you," she says, looking me in the eyes. 
                          
"Liar," I yell. "YOU LIER! YOURE LYING!"
                          
"Well..." she whispers. "I guess somebody's got a special gift now, don't we?"
                          
"I just wanna be 9 again," I whimper. "When I was 9 you didn't hurt me!"
                          
"Sh sh shhhh..." She places the cloth over my face and holds it firmly in place. 
                          
I yell muffled words into the material but it scratches at my lips. 
                          
The sound of water flowing fills my senses, and the liquid slowly starts to spill into my mouth...
                          
I shoot up into a sitting position. These aren't just dreams. These are memories and they are so so real. I can't breathe. My mouth is stuck shut and my lungs slowly start to constrict. 
                          
Sloane snores away, and I half wish she'd decided to continue her experiments anyways. 
                          
I jump out of bed as my chest starts to burn with lack of oxygen. No air comes through my nose and I'm left with nothing. 
                          
I run out into the hall, being careful not to make too much noise, but still not caring because I can't fricking breathe. 
                          
I run towards the stairs which oh so helpfully are at the other end of the hallway. At the top I can hear a door crack behind me, but I rush down anyways. 
                          
Okay, panic time. 
                          
My vision slowly starts to blur. 
                          
What did you do before Kathy?! What helped with this?
                          
I pull open the freezer and grab an ice cube, placing it against my throat. I believe I've been stuck in this exact predicament twice before, and my body goes completely numb. So I place the ice, and I run it everywhere on my throat but I can't feel it. 
                          
Bad sign. 
                          
Pain, I need to feel pain...
                          
I open the cutlery drawer and grab a knife, and yet I know what to do, I stare at it in disbelief. 
                          
Okay. Just be quick and slice. Don't hit a vein, and you'll be fine. 
                          
I lower the knife to my wrist when out of nowhere somebody grabs it out of my hand. I look up to Dean, staring at me like I'm stupid. 
                          
"What the hell are you doing?" he murmurs. 
                          
I shake my head vehemently and point at my throat, but he narrows his eyes in confusion. A sudden rush of fatigue causes me to sway and he catches me. 
                          
"Vi?"
                          
I try my best to stand and point at my mouth. 
                          
"You're pale- can you breathe? Vi take a breath."
                          
I roll my eyes at his stupidity. As if I haven't been trying to do that this entire time. 
                          
He lightly grips my chin and try's to pull it down but grunts when he realizes my jaw is locked. 
                          
"Okay, let's just..."
                          
He grabs my wrist and squeezes. Hard, his veins pulsing within his arm. The sudden rush of pain rips through my entire body, forcing me to gasp. 
                          
I cough at the rapid amount of oxygen and my vision goes black for a second, making me fall to my knees. Dean had still been holding on to my wrist, and slowly kneels down next to me, holding me close as I hack into my arm.
                          
"It's okay, you're okay now," he whispers as he brushes my hair behind my ear. This soft side is something I didn't think I'd see, but it's so unbelievably comforting. 
                          
As the coughs subside I take a deep breath. 
                          
"You know... you're not supposed to see me at my most vulnerable within my first day."
                          
He laughs softly, but stops abruptly as if he's noticed what he's done. 
                          
"Erm... yeah, I guess."
                          
He tenses up, and I can tell he's suddenly uncomfortable, so I pull away. 
                          
"Um... thank you, for helping me snap out of it. I should apologize for waking you... again."
                          
"It's fine," he replies sharply. "Are you still sure it's not a nightmare?" 
                          
I look him in the eye to try and read his face. He is remarkably good at hiding in the shadows, it's not even funny, but also at hiding his emotions. I can see in his eyes that his question is genuine, but there's also a hint of amusement, as if he knows I'm gonna lie, "but at least he knows the truth." That sort of thing. But I won't. I'm not going to lie. 
                          
Well well, look who's an emotion reader now.
                          
"No..." I say softly. "Not a dream. Just memories..." I stand up and begin walking to the other side of the kitchen to reach the stairs. 
                          
"Thanks again Dean..." I whisper, before disappearing into the darkness...